


come crashing into my mute world

by why_me_why_not



Category: Goon (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:37:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/why_me_why_not/pseuds/why_me_why_not
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pat's always been there, as long as Ira can remember, and he's always been <i>Pat</i>.  Ira's not sure when things changed between them, when he started seeing Pat as something other than Doug's loudmouth, obnoxious best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	come crashing into my mute world

**Author's Note:**

  * For [junebug_waltz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/junebug_waltz/gifts).



> Set during the timeline of the movie, written for junebug_waltz, titled by earlofcardigans, beta'd by asimplechord, all remaining mistakes are mine.

Ira's proud of his brother, proud Doug is proud of himself. He's never been a huge hockey fan, but he is a Doug fan, so he keeps up with the games. He knows enough from growing up with Doug and Pat, and what he doesn't know, he asks Pat, even though the answers inevitably come with a sizeable side of mocking. Bars aren't really Ira's thing, and his schedule doesn't always allow him to catch the games on TV anyway, so he ends up watching most of them in Pat's mancave, and becomes a regular on Pat's show, which still exists and has more than five viewers now thanks to Doug. 

Richard doesn't care, about hockey or Doug, and gets pissed when Pat calls at 2am to discuss the latest hockey gossip. Ira doesn't mind as much as he should, not the 2am phone calls or the day Richard tells him he's taking a job offer down in DC. ("Fuck him anyway," Pat says, "Dick was a dick.")

Pat's always been there, as long as Ira can remember, and he's always been _Pat_. Ira's not sure when things changed between them, when he started seeing Pat as something other than Doug's loudmouth, obnoxious best friend. 

It's after one of the Highlanders wins that Pat jumps into Ira's lap and kisses him. It's not a cheek kiss like the one he got for Doug's first goal (the one he made with his _ass_ , he's never gonna live that shit down), far from it. It's more like Pat thinks kissing is a full contact sport. The way Pat kisses isn't surprising - it's overenthusiastic and crude, and Ira loves it. Finally Pat pulls away, rambling, "Oh shit, oh shit, can you believe that? Doug, that fucker, I've got to call him!" and he's pulling out his phone to leave a profanity laden voicemail congratulating Doug on the win. Ira tries not to overthink it.

A few days pass without Ira talking to Pat, until Pat texts to make sure they're on for Tuesday night's game. Ira's not freaking out about kissing his brother's best friend. He wouldn't blow off watching Doug play hockey just for that. But it's been a long day, a surgery that went south and he can't figure out where, and he wants to go home and sleep through the three days off he's got coming. He leaves Pat a message that he's not coming over, apologizes and offers to make it up to him with tickets to an actual game if the Highlanders end up making the playoffs.

It's starting to get dark when Ira leaves the hospital, and he doesn't notice the shadow of a person leaning against his car in time to keep from tripping over his own feet when Pat says, "Hey." 

Ira sighs. He really can't handle Pat right now. He starts to say something - he's not sure what, just plans on talking and hoping something comes out that makes sense and sends Pat on his way without hurt feelings - but Pat cuts him off with a gesture. He reaches for the bag on top of the car and holds it out. 

"Dinner. You sounded wiped on the phone." He hands the bag to Ira and pushes away from the car, set to walk away. 

It's obvious there's enough takeout for two, so Ira sighs again. "Wait. Wanna come back to the house, watch the game there?"

"Hell yeah!" 

Pat is surprisingly quiet on the ride over, and Ira keeps looking over at him, trying to figure out why. 

"What?" Pat finally asks. 

"Nothing, I just can't remember ever seeing you quiet."

"Fuck you, I can totally do quiet. Asshole." He's laughing, though, and obviously making an effort, which Ira appreciates. 

He's still pretty quiet while they eat, though he's practically vibrating with energy beside Ira on the couch. He gets a little loud during the game, but stays relatively calm compared to his usual exuberance. 

Ira's getting a headache, on top of everything else, and he really wants to tell Pat to get the fuck out but he feels obligated to be a good host and probably drive him home after the game, and even though dinner was the usual from his favorite place (and he's definitely been spending too much time with Pat if Pat knew that), it's not really worth it. 

"What is it going to take to shut you up?" he asks after a particularly shrill outburst.

"You could always put your dick in my mouth," Pat suggests, casting a grin in Ira's direction before turning back to the television. "Oh, what the fuck? C'mon, you assholes, get it together!" 

Ira reaches out with one hand to stop Pat from throwing his empty cup at the television screen and uses the other to grab the remote and hit the power button. He's recording the game anyway. 

"Hey!" 

"DVR, you can watch the rest later." Ira tugs on Pat's wrist as he leans back further into the couch, pulling Pat with him. "C'mere." 

Pat comes willingly enough, crawling into Ira's lap like the affectionate no-personal-boundaries guy he is. "I didn't really mean it about your dick. I mean, I'll suck your dick if you want, but if you really just want me to be quiet, I can do that too." 

Ira pulls him into a kiss to shut him up. There's no real intent behind it, just lazy making out on the couch and enjoying the quiet. 

He lets his hands slide under Pat's t-shirt, waiting for Pat to tell him to stop. For all his talk, and for the fact every other kiss between them has been Pat-initiated, he doesn't know if Pat's genuinely interested in this, in _him_. They don't even have the benefit of alcohol, just one beer each with dinner. Pat just goes with it and tries to get his hands on Ira's skin too, tugging at his shirts. 

"Fuck, why do you have so many fucking layers?" Pat mutters, finally getting his fingers beneath Ira's undershirt. 

Ira laughs, because he shouldn't be surprised that even this comes with commentary. He slides one hand around to the front of Pat's stupidly tight jeans and rests his fingers over button. "Can I?" 

"Hell yeah, knock yourself out." Pat shifts so Ira has better access, can easily slide the zipper down, push Pat's jeans and stupid cartoon print boxers down far enough that Ira can get at his dick. Pat's pushing into his touch, and whines a little when Ira pulls his hand away to lick it, give himself a little wet to work with. As soon as Ira's fingers are wrapped around his dick again, Pat kisses him messily. Ira doesn't even pretend to take his time, jerking Pat hard and fast, encouraged by the murmured noises of encouragement. 

Ira's almost too distracted by the stupid face Pat makes when he comes to realize that he's now got jizz all over his sweater. Pat rests his forehead against Ira's for a minute, then kisses him again and slides down, hands going to the top of Ira's pants. "My turn, let me blow you." 

It's not like Ira's going to stop him. 

Pat's sloppy and has no rhythm and is generally pretty bad at it, but what he lacks in technique, he makes up for in enthusiasm. Ira likes it, and he was already pretty turned on, so it doesn't take long before he's muttering something he hopes works as a warning and Pat's pulling back, using his hand to finish him off. 

Which means more mess on Ira's sweater, but he's a little too distracted to care right now. 

Ira's got his head resting against the arm of the couch, breathing rough, until Pat smacks his thigh. Pat grins when Ira looks up. 

"Go to bed. I'll clean up." 

Ira lets Pat help him up from the couch and stumbles down the hall to his bedroom, not bothering with lights as he strips down. It's been a while since he managed to get off while still wearing all his clothes, makes him think of college. He contemplates a shower, but decides against it, turning down the sheets and climbing into bed in his boxers and undershirt. Sleep sounds really good. 

He hears the front door open and shut, and thinks that's that, Pat's gone home. Hopes he locked up after himself because Ira's not getting back up to check. But then there are footsteps in the hall, and then Pat appears of the foot of his bed, shedding his clothes and dropping them into the middle of the floor like the heathen he is. 

He's still grinning once he's down to his boxers and sliding into the bed beside Ira. "This is okay, right?" 

Ira nods, shifting to accommodate Pat trying to curl up with him. It's more than okay, even if things might be weird in the morning. 

And things _are_ weird in the morning, but only because Ira wakes up to find Pat dancing around his kitchen, making a half-assed attempt at breakfast with what little Ira has on hand, dressed in his boxers and one of Ira's old t-shirts.

Ira pulls out his laptop and a credit card to buy them tickets to the last game of the season, against the St John's Shamrocks, and laughs because Pat makes his orgasm face over the idea of being there in person when Doug faces off against Rhea. Ira thinks he's a little too fond of that stupid face, and Pat's stupid hair, and Pat in general. It's possibly a problem.


End file.
